


even when there's nothing worth living for, you're still worth lying for

by vvenom



Category: (alternate genderbent universe), Adventure Time
Genre: F/M, Party, Underage Drinking, Underage Smoking
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-25
Updated: 2016-10-24
Packaged: 2018-07-26 16:35:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,493
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7581706
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vvenom/pseuds/vvenom
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Fionna."</p><p>Your eyes dart up to meet his, and his face looks even more flushed than usual.</p><p>"I'm done ditching you."</p><p>(some trash ive been working on for way too long, bada bing bada boom. original title: you're forcing my hand)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. dance, dance

**Author's Note:**

> sooso so s o this is trash lmao . i usuallly dont do drafts and just wing everything but i actually took the time to write this one twice. 
> 
> anywaysysys this is written to be way more chill than the original adventure time show, as in not as weird and random bc im pretty sure it wouldn't be as good if it was lmao. the basics of everything is still there though, along with each characters personallity
> 
> i loooooooooove feedback so if you have any comment on how to make this better or any questions or even like ideas for future chapters that would be awesome !!! i hope you enjoyy y y y y

You knew better than to walk inside the ballroom, you really did. You saw the lights and heard the music a few miles before you even got here, but something told you that you were wrong. Gumball invited you to a small personal party, just like he had explained it. A special thing, and he chose you to escort him. But this isn't at all what you see in front of you, and you stand at the front doors in the hallway, debating.

Why would invite you to this? Gumball wasn't known for throwing lavish parties. This was so unlike him. You weren't saying you were above this, not at all, but you expected something very different. Something a lot more personal that this.

The hallway lights are dimmed, and small colorful lights leak through the doors of the ballroom and pour over the small baby blue and red laced dress that drapes over your body. Maybe you should leave. Going home would be easier than facing the humiliation of getting the wrong idea. You weren't really dressed for this kind of party. For this kind of party, you wouldn't have dressed up at all. Hell, you had even fixed your hair.

You pull your dress down over your knees, and you suddenly feel very uncomfortable in your own skin. Maybe you should just go home.

"I think you look nice."

You barely hear his voice over the loud music blasting from the ballroom, but it's still enough to make you jump.

You glance down the hallway, your eyes locking into a pair of deep red ones as Marshall Lee approaches you from the end of the corridor. His hair is shorter than you remember, and he's wearing lime green prescription glasses, a grey distressed tshirt, army pants and a pair of combat boots. You hate to say it, but he looks good. Not as skinny as he looked before.

"I don't wanna go in there either. Stepped out to have a smoke and saw you walk in."

"Is that your excuse for stalking me?"

He snorts, rolling his eyes as he walks. "You think it's always about you. Hate to break it to you, but I was invited by Your's Truly as well. I think we can all agree he doesn't know how to make his mind up. One of us was probably the back up if the other didn't come."

The back up. Is that what you had been reduced to? You stood before Marshall as he finally caught up to you, his back pressing against the wall facing you.

"Don't take in too rough." He pulls out a pack of cigarettes from his pocket, lighting another one in front of you. "I've been the back up for years. You get used to it."

Your brows furrow as the harsh smoke fills your nose, loud music still violating your ears. You felt like a circus attraction. You really wish you had brought a change of clothes.

"Back up for who? It's not like Gumball has any real friends besides me and you." Your voice is short, even though your aren't trying for it to be. You had the right to be frustrated. Didn't you?

He laughs, smoke rising from his mouth and flowing over his face into the air. "You think we're his real friends?"

His words slide off his tongue like oil, and you don't really feel like listening anymore. You feel like finding a phone, and calling Cake to come pick you up. You don't want to be here anymore, especially looking like this.

"Look," Marshall throws his cigarette bud to the ground, stomping it slowly as he approaches you. "We can chill at my place, if you want. Not to far of a flight from here, and I've got clothes you can borrow. Maybe some edible food, and some shitty movie. But under one condition."

You hate when Marshall read your thoughts, you really do. But you had to admit, the idea of crashing with someone else then Cake and Gumball for once was really appealing. And the last time you hung out with Marshall was pretty fun.

You sigh, trying your hardest to sound annoyed. "What's your condition?"

He grins, something toothy that makes you weak at the knees. Not that you found him attractive or anything.

"You have to dance with me." He jabs a thumb at the doorway to the ballroom. "Out there. Just one song."

You squint, really hard. So hard that you can barely make out the gray blur that is Marshall Lee at this point.

"I am not going out there," You let your hands down from being crossed over your chest, gesturing to your entire body. "Looking like this."

You didn't know it was possible, but you swear Marshall's grin grows larger. "I think you look great. Red's my favorite color."

You try your hardest not to blush, but god dammit if you don't blush hard enough that Marshall could have a buffet off your face.

His smile is so wild, and it looks so good on him too. You hadn't seen Marshall smile in forever, and it felt so nice to know that you were the cause of it.

Why not? Why not entertain him for just a second? Plus, you might even have some fun. Marshall was really good at doing that. Making you have fun.

You open your mouth to reply, but before you can even get a word out Marshall he's read your thoughts.

His fingers interlace with your as he pulls the ballroom door open with his other hand, loud music hitting your skin like a brick. The place is darker than the hallway, and completely filled wall to wall with people. It must've been four and a half people for every square foot.

You hear Marshall's laugh through the noise as his hand tightens around yours, pulling you deep into the center of the crowd. You barely see him in front of you anymore, and you grasp his hand tightly as your lifeline as you move tediously through the waves of candy people.

Bright colorful lights move over the hundreds of bodies swarming around you, making it so much harder for you to see where your going. A familiar face passes, maybe one or two? There's no way of being sure. You just pray you could get through this, you're looking forward to shitty movies and some (maybe edible) food.

Marshall stops at some point, and you know because you run straight into him. Your forehead bounces off his collarbone, and you hands ball up his shirt on his chest as you try to regain balance.

He's laughing at you, but you aren't mad because you can tell he's not mocking you. You laugh back too, and you look up at him as dancing candy people push you both closer to each other.

You don't really have a plan at this point, because you had never really danced with anyone before. You didn't even think you would make it out here, at least through the dance floor without exploding in a giant shroud of shame.

"Here," Marshall spins you around, his chest pressing against your back. He feels warm. "I'll show you how. And stop stressing. You look hot."

You're glad he can't see your face light fire in the dark lighting, especially when his hand snakes around your waist. They stop at your hips, resting along the seam of your dress, and press slowly against you to make them move.

You try to mock what his hands are doing, rolling your hips in and out, and you hear and excited laugh erupt behind you over the music.

You feel his breath on your neck as he talks, and it something you wish you could trap in a box and keep forever. "You're getting the hang of it now."

He spins you back around, his hands staying planted against your hips, and now you're facing each other under the dim lighting of the candy kingdom ballroom.

His eyes dip down, looking over you as you press yourself against him, his hands firming on your waist. You were kind of glad you agreed. You hated to admit it, but this was fun, and you were actually starting to like the way you looked a little bit more. Maybe it was a good thing you came, you may have been the back up for another person, but Marshall was giving you the good time you couldn't have gotten from Gumball.

"Fionna?"

You spin, your eyes tearing away from Marshall's as you press your back into his chest. You feel Marshall's breath hitch in his throat as you look over a distressed Gumball, his brows furrowed as his eyes stay locked on Marshall.

"Gumball..." Your voice is tight in your throat. You were invited to his party, by him, and you had completely forgot he existed. And in the moment, it felt great.

"Hey, Fionna." He was talking to you, but not really looking at you. His eyes still pressed against Marshall, who's body was pressed against you. "I was looking for you."

"Well." Marshall's voice is deep, something primal that vibrates through his chest. "You found her."

"I need to talk to her. Fionna, come with me." Gumball's hand reaches out towards your arm but you find yourself flinching away. He lied to you, promising you a small date and giving you a lavish party. He made you feel dumb.

Marshall made you feel alive.

"Actually, me and Marshall were just leaving. Right?"

Marshall nods as he pulls you back into the crowd behind you. Soon, Gumball's look of disappointment gets covered up by the crowd, and you're glad. You didn't know if you could take much of it anymore.

After a few minutes of navigating to the front entrance, you both stumble into the walkway you met in, and it takes you both a few minutes to catch your breath.

Marshall speaks first, his raspy voice sounding firm against the walls. "Well, that sucked shit."

You nod as you stand up straight, running your hands down the front of your dress.

"I don't know," You talk without thinking, your words barely forming in your mouth. "I thought the dancing part was fun. I could do some more of that sometime."

You hear Marshall's grin in his voice as he talks, and you focus on trying to reach the exit door.

"Oh really? Maybe I'll have to take you out sometime. The Candy Kingdom isn't really the ideal place to-"

"Hey!" You cut him off as he's speaking, and it catches him off guard, if only for a second. You like the way blushing looks on him.

"Yeah? Whats up?"

You smile, giggling as you wait for him to catch up to you at the exit. "This outfit sucks. And I'm ready for my shitty movie, as promised. I met up to your conditions, are you gonna hold up your end of the deal, or...?"

He smiles down at you as he meets you at the doorway, and you notice his eyes aren't red anymore. They're a deep shade of green. You like the way they look through the frames of his glasses.

"I don't break my promises," His says through a laugh. "But, flying through the air in a dress is gonna suck."

Your smile disappears, and your face flushes as you open your mouth to contest. But before you can even get a word out, you're out the door and up in the air. For a second, its so scary you don't even open your eyes. But at some point along the way, you eventually fall asleep.


	2. it's fate, you know? nobody can stop fate, nobody can.

Marshall's place is very Marshall. It's the most Marshall thing you've ever seen in your life to be honest, and you were standing right beside him.

The walls in every room of the house are covered in magazine pages, old posters and ripped notebook pages. The carpet is a deep shade of purple, and it feels good in between your toes as you take your shoes off at the front doorway of the livingroom.

Your eyes fall over an old corduroy sofa on the back wall across from a small TV, and it looks well loved. A little too well loved.

"How long have you had that thing?"

He hovers through the room in front of you, swiftly moving into the hallway as he talks. "The couch? Ah. An ex gave it too me I think. So maybe 300 years?"

You nod, trying your hardest not to seem impressed. Your mind drifts into thought as you awkwardly step through the livingroom to a recliner in the corner.

You had hung out with Marshall a few times before, so why did this feel so different? Maybe because his house seemed so... personal. It was homey, but in the sense that is was an obvious home for him and him only. It was like his bedroom had expanded past the bedroom door and into the entire house. You almost felt as if you were intruding.

"Fionna," You turn in your chair as you hear your name called from down the hallway, and Marshall peaks his head from around the corner. "You wanna come change? The bedrooms back here."

"Oh!" You hop excitedly out of the chair, remembering how uncomfortable you are in this stupid dress. You don't know why you let Cake talk you into wearing this in the first place.

Everywhere in Marshall's house is dimly lit by small lamps and decorative lights. There's no harsh lighting anywhere, and you love the way small christmas lights line the hallway as you quietly walk to the back room.

You push the door open slowly, and the first thing you notice is that Marshall has changed clothes. He's wearing a black shirt with a goat on it, and long baggy gray plaid pajama pants.

You giggle at him as he hunches over his dresser, pulling out clothes as he digs and letting them fall to the ground.

His face darts out of focus to face you, his eyes meeting yours behind the lenses of his glasses.

"What's funny?"

You laugh again, pushing past the bedroom door as you enter. "I never thought I'd see you so... I don't know. Toned down. Also, what are you doing?"

He pauses his digging, pulling out a tshirt and unfolding it in the light in front of him.

"I'm looking for something you can change into, but nothing seems... I don't know. Like, suitable."

"That's because they're your clothes you dummy!" You rip the tshirt from his hands as you laugh, jumping away from him as he protests and holding it out in front of you.

It's a shade of dark green, and it has a picture of a pair of skeletons laying in a field of flowers. You kind of like it.

"This is fine! I don't know why you're so stressed about it." You snort as you pull off your stockings, dropping the tshirt on Marshall's bed as you strip the long socks out from underneath you.

"You got any bottoms I can borrow too? Or am I just gonna go pants-less?"

"Hey, I mean," A pair of soft pajama pants hit you in the back of the head, messing up your fixed hair slightly. "If you want to walk around with no pants, that's totally up to you."

You snort again as Marshall drifts from the bedroom into the hallway, giving you the privacy to change out of your dress.

You take your time changing, undoing every bow and button with care. In public, you hated being seen in this dress, but in privacy, you loved it. It was so hard to love the feminine side of yourself when to the public eye you are only viewed as a hero. Sure, you could kick a few monsters butts, but that didn't mean you weren't still a girl underneath the muscle.

"Hey Fionna," Marshall's voice rings down the hallway from the livingroom as you let your dress fall, pulling his green band shirt over your head.

"Yeah?"

"What movie do you want to watch? I'm thinking either this underground film Slime Prince put out a few months back or this really ancient VHS I've had for a while called 'Natural Born Killers.'"

You finish tying your long hair out of your eyes and pad down the hallway into the livingroom quietly. When you enter, Marshall's eyes are glued to the screen of his cell phone as he sits on the floor in front of his box TV. His brows are furrowed as he thumbs down his screen, and you try your hardest not to be nosy.

"Which one's better?"

"Huh?"

His head shoots up from his phone, and he pushes it deep into his pocket as he looks up at you. It takes him a minute to register what's going on, and his eyes run over you slowly as he snaps back to reality. A grin stretches over his face as he examines your outfit, and you can't help but blush under his gaze.

"You put your hair up."

You face feels on fire. "Uh, yeah. I don't have my hat. It was in my face."

He nods, his teeth nicking over the edges of his bottom lip as he looks over you, and you freeze under his gaze, not knowing what to do.

"What did you say again?" His eyes are wild as he looks at you, and you feel exposed in his clothing.

"Oh!" You spring from your spot in the hallway opening and make your way to the recliner chair. "Um, which is better? Like, which movie do you think is better?"

Your words are tumbling out of your mouth as you try to speak, but when Marshall talks it seems almost effortless. You hate the way you seem so... uncool around him. It was hard to let yourself relax around someone who always seemed so relaxed.

"You know, I'm not as relaxed as you think."

Your head snaps out of thought as Marshall pushes himself off the floor and walks toward you in the recliner.

"Huh?" Was he doing that thing again?

"Just because I seem chill, doesn't mean I am." You gasp quietly as his hands dig underneath your back and into the bends of your legs, raising you off of the recliner with ease. "And you're sitting on the couch with me. We're watching Natural Born Killers. It's the better movie."

When he places you down on the couch, you're kind of glad he moved you. You did want to sit by him honestly, and if he wouldn't have said anything, you probably would have been too nervous to move later on. What did he mean by what he said, anyway? Was he nervous like you are right now? Why didn't he show it? It would make you feel a hell of a lot better about the situation. At least you think.

Thirty minutes of the movie pass, and you can't help but get really into it.

"Where did all the snakes come from?"

"They're just imagining them."

"If they're just imagining them then how did they get snake-bit?"

"Just because they're hallucinating doesn't mean there aren't actually snakes there."

"What does hallucinating mean?"

Marshall's laugh is loud enough to fill his quiet house, and the best part about it is it sounds so genuine.

Your face barely moves from the screen as he leans in to you slightly, his arm stretching over the back of the couch.

"You're one of those people that asks questions the entire movie, huh?"

You shoot him a fast scowl before focusing back in on the screen, and laughs again, a little quieter than before.

You stay focused the rest of the movie, so focused that you don't notice Marshall pull out his phone and type a novel to someone halfway through it. Except that you do, because your nosiness exceeds your longing to understand this super weird movie.

But once he puts his phone away, and your eyes snap back onto the small TV set up on two cinder-blocks, you stay focused again.

And this time, you really don't notice how he leans in a little closer every time he whispers plot details to you, or how his knee brushes against your own as he explains what police brutality is in between action scenes.

You don't notice the little things, and you unconsciously become more comfortable with them. You don't mind being close to Marshall, and honestly, it's kind of nice. You liked being near someone that wasn't trying to court you. You liked just being close, just touching, in a manner that didn't mean anything at all. It just mean't what it was. That you were close.

Eventually, the credits of the movie role across the screen, and you have a million questions popping up in your head all at once.

"Fionna, please, it's like 2 in the morning." Marshall snickers as you follow him into the kitchen, pushing yourself up on the counter as he opens the refrigerator.

You laugh back at him, kicking your feet softly and letting your heels drum against the cabinets lightly. "What are you, like, forty? It's only 2 am. If you shut down right now, this is gonna be one really lame slumber party."

  
He lifts his head from the fridge, a light smirk painted across his face and a box of cranberry juice in his hand. "Number one, I'm more than a thousand years old. Number two, this is a slumber party? As in slumber? As in, you're staying the night?"

You freeze, your face going pale as your shoulders tense. Is this not what this was? You thought this is what he wanted to do. Did you invite yourself unknowingly? Had you fabricated this? Did he want you to leave?

"Um..." Is all you can manage in your small panic, and Marshall shuts the fridge door behind him as he paces over to you on the counter slowly.

"Fionna, don't stress. A slumber party was the general plan from the beginning." His hand falls over your knee as he sips from the carton, his face getting painfully close to yours as he puts the carton down.

"I just didn't think you'd be down honestly. Since, uh, Cake's not really... a big fan of me." His eyes drift over the floor as he talks, his eyebrows dancing over his forehead.

You like the fact that you can see Marshall's emotions in the moment, and it almost makes you forget the fact that he's so damn close to you that you can barely breathe.

"Marshall, we've hung out plently of times before. Cake wouldn't be any more mad about this then she would that." You lean back as far as you can, putting as much space as possible between your face and Marshall's. You think he might catch onto this as he pushes away from you slowly, grabbing his juice carton and taking a seat a few feet away from you at the dining table.

"Fionna, this is a tad different. I think you know that."

You roll your eyes. Marshall trying to act mature was kind of the worst, because you knew he totally didn't care in reality. He just wanted to know if you did.

"Stop talking about it. What you should be talking about, is what movie we're watching next. Because there is no way I'm letting you pass out on me right now."

A grin stretches across his face again, and you wish you could remember the way he looks in this moment forever. Messy hair, glasses, a band tshirt ripped at the armpits and his teeth stained red from drinking too much cranberry juice. You liked him like this, you liked seeing him the way he was in his own house. You feel like he would be different if you put him somewhere else, and that's because he would be. Although he hadn't totally let his guard down around you, this was more that enough. Just seeing him in his dorky state, arguing with you about sci fi flicks and indie horror films, was more than enough. Because next time you saw him in front of someone else, you knew that this would be the person behind the sarcasm and the crudeness. This was Marshall, a boy who wasn't very good with personal space, who wore lime green glasses because he was nearsighted, and a boy who you were unknowingly developing a bit of a crush on. Maybe.


	3. it doesn't matter, it never mattered

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i havent updated this in like foreverrrrrr bleh  
> anyway hope you enjoy :-) ill be putting a story to the romance soon

_one month later_

You hadn't seen Marshall in a while. It's not like you hadn't been thinking about him constantly, because you had, it just was you hadn't seen him.

After that night, you came home to a very angry Cake, who wasn't afraid to tell you. You didn't tell her who you were with, because you knew all too well she wouldn't let you go back. The thing was, you still hadn't been back, and you weren't completely sure why.

It was raining pretty hard outside, and Cake had been on the living room floor for three hours playing some impossible game on b-mo. Although the night felt like any other, you felt very uneasy, and you couldn't quite put a finger on why.

You had gone back to the Candy Kingdom earlier today to apologize to Gumball, but things still didn't feel the same. He didn't explain to you why he lied, and you didn't ask why. You had other things on your mind.

Your feet drag on the ground as you walk slowly to the bathroom, your hair brushing along your shoulders. You had recently chopped it off, the golden locks barely brushing your collar bone. You examine it in the mirror, along with the bags draped under your eyes. Your sleep schedule was all out of whack lately, Gumball giving you missions at any time of the night. Deep down you knew it was his way of payback, but you let it happen anyway. It's not like you had anything better to do with your time.

You pace down the stairs to the living room in a tshirt and boxer shorts, rain drumming down hard on your roof. "Hey Cake, do we have anything to eat?"

"Huh?"

She barely looks up from b-mo's screen as she talks, and you decide it's just a better idea for you to inspect yourself.

The kitchen is cooler the the rest of the house, having it's own separate ventilation system for some reason. The previous owners never had a reason why, but you hated it, especially now as you dug through the back of the pantry in search for some form of food.

"It's because I caught it on fire once."

"What the fuck!"

You jump back into the pantry door, hitting your head on the low hanging doorway as a voice hits the back of your ear. It gives you flashbacks of that night, Marshall's breath on your neck, and you can't help but feel pleasantly surprised by it. But you were too mad to care.

"Oh shit, are you okay?"

He stands in front of you wearing a dark grey sweater, black pants with rips in the knees, and old high top sneakers. There's a brown paper bag in his left hand, and a pair of cherry red glasses in the other.

"What the hell Marshall?"

"Hey, sh sh sh sh..." He flinches in closer to you, putting his glasses on and placing a hand over your mouth to calm you. "I don't want the cat to know I'm here."

"Why are you here?" You don't quiet your tone like he asks. Where had he been? Why would he leave you hanging like that only to come back a month later? He knows you have a phone, he could have at least called. You called him, and he didn't even care to answer. Why would he show up now?

He pushes his glasses up on his face, a look of confusion and embarrassment draping over him. He hold up the paper bag meekly. "I heard you were hungry."

You scowl. You weren't going to be distracted by food. "I've been calling you this whole month, and you haven't answered a single time. Are you like, avoiding me or something? Did I do something, or-"

"Fionna," His voice sounds tired as he talks. "I haven't been avoiding you. I don't know where you're getting that from."

"But you knew I was hungry." You grab the bag out of his hand violently, holding it up in front of him. "How long have you been reading my thoughts? This whole month? Or just here recently?"

"What? No, I-I'm not-"

"I don't understand Marshall, I thought after hanging out like that it'd be different, or you'd at least stop by sometime or something. I thought we might be like, I don't know, friends in stead of just people who just happened to know each other-"

"Fionna, I was scared." His voice is quiet, but stern, and you don't like the way it sounds. You look at him as he stands in front of you, and it almost reminds you of your reflection in the mirror. He sports the same baggy eyes as you behind the lenses of his glasses, but what was his his reason for having them?

"Scared of what?"

He sighs. "I was scared that I'd mess something up. Or that I already had, I don't know. You and Gumball are, or were really close, and I messed something up there, I know I did."

"Wait, have you been talking to him?" You set the bag down on the counter beside you as you lean closer, your eyes locking into his. "What did he say to you?"

For a moment, it looks like he might actually be honest with you, but of course the moment passes.

"Nothing. Whatever. You can have the food, it's tacos from that place by that haunted well. Next time you call I'll answer."

You grab his arm as he turns to leave, and your voice sounds desperate as you talk to him, but you don't really care.

"Marshall, stop dude. I don't know what Gumball told you, and I don't really care. Just forget about it, forget about anything that I said. At least stay here until the rain stops."

You hadn't realized before grabbing his arm, but he was soaking wet. He must have flown all the way through the rain to get here. Suddenly you weren't so mad about him reading your mind anymore.

He considers your offer for a minute, a few locks of hair peeking out from around his hood. "Okay but," His voice is soft and calm. "What about the cat?"

Oh shit. You hadn't thought about Cake.

"Uh, well..." Your eyes dart past Marshall into the living room, the soft glow of b-mo's screen barely lighting the dark house. "She's preoccupied right now. Maybe we can sneak past her into the bedroom."

Marshall's eyes flash, his eyebrow rising on his forehead as a grin stretches across his face. "Oh, the bedroom, huh?"

You shove him hard into the counter before grabbing the bag of food and pushing past him, his giggles following suit.

"Wait, can't you turn yourself invisible?" You turn back to him only to see an empty kitchen, no evidence of him even being there in sight.

Suddenly something cold and damp snakes around your waist under the rim of your tshirt, and hot breath runs down the back of your neck.

"Yeah, I can."

For a second you allow it, his skin feels good against yours, even if you can't see it. But then you remember where you are and who you are, and push yourself away from him as hard as you can.

"Cut it out!" Your eyes shut hard as you take a few steps into the living room. Why was he always messing with your head?

Either Marshall has fallen deadly quiet as you walk past Cake to the stairway, or he has disappeared completely. The only noise in the whole house is the soft hum of Cake's video game and the drumming of rain against your roof.

You hear something creak above you and bet that Marshall has already gone past you upstairs, and you tell Cake goodnight as you step carefully into the stairway.

"Huh?" Her voice is dazed and focused, and you know she'll be occupied for quite a while.

* * *

 

"Okay, it's your turn."

The light of your lantern flickers off of Marshall face as his eyes dart around your room. He's laying horizontally on your bed, his legs kicking freely over the side, and he's wearing the tshirt you won at a Turbo Mouse video game tournament two years back.

It had been decided that Marshall was staying the night when it was obvious the rain wasn't clearing up any time soon. You had gone downstairs to check on Cake only to see she had fallen asleep on the couch, a controller resting on her chest.

You set at the top of your bed with your legs crossed, your eyes watching Marshall's behind the lenses of his glasses. There was something different about the way Marshall's eyes worked. They moved slowly, almost as if they were lagging. You thought it was intriguing.

"Okay, truth."

You snort. "You're so lame, oh my gosh."

So far you had stood in the toilet, licked Cake's bare foot in her sleep, and let Marshall suck the color out of your favorite tshirt, which just so happened to be cherry red. Marshall had done nothing but pick truth, because he knew you were terrible at making up questions.

"Uh..." You thought hard, not wanting to waste another round on some dumb question. Man, if you could only read minds.

"Wait, I've got one."

"Oh really?" He cocks an eyebrow and grins just how he knows you like it, and you hate it so so much.

"Yeah, really." You snort. "Who were you texting that night after Gumball's party? It uh, seemed pretty long."

This makes Marshall pause, his eyes widening in small surprise. You had caught him off guard.

"It was Gumball."

"Gumball?" Your face scrunches as you think about it. "What about?"

"Sorry babe," He rolls over onto his stomach playfully. "You only get one question. My turn."

You squint. "Fine. I pick truth. I'm tired of standing in gross stuff." You decide not to yell at him for calling you babe, he only wanted to see your reaction anyway.

He laughs before letting his eyes dart around in thought once again, and you can't help but stare as he does this.

"Okay," He licks his lips softly, a light sigh escaping his throat. "Have you ever kissed anyone before?"

You sit back for a minute, shocked by how intimate the question feels lingering in the air of your bedroom. You hadn't kissed anyone, but you didn't feel like sharing that right now. Especially to Marshall, who had a ton of different exes, and probably had experience kissing a hundred different people. Why would he even ask something like that, did he want to embarrass you?

"Uh..." You feel your face burn under his gaze, and you wish you could lie and say _Yes, of course I have_ , but he knew better. He was a mind reader, and he didn't even need you to say your answer out loud, but you did anyway.

"No, I've uh," You raise your hands to cover your cheeks. "...never done that."

He stares at you blankly, and you keep wishing he'd laugh at you already, or just do something.

"Hm." He rolls over onto his back, and a look of confusion spreads across your face. "Don't worry, it's overrated."

"Overrated?" Your voice chokes in your throat. You didn't want him to think you were a little kid, but you were genuinely curious. "What do you mean?"

"It's not that big of a deal." He shrugs, his glasses falling back into his hair. "People put it on a pedestal but I don't think it's all that great. It's just something that some people do."

You let the idea roll around in your head. Was it really? Yeah, of course couples kiss, but you've occasionally kissed Cake before on the cheek when she was being sweet, and you had kissed your mother before, hadn't you? Kissing someone you liked would be just the same thing you guess, and honestly did it even matter if you liked them or not? This was such a new concept to you, that you completely forget about your embarrassment.

"How many people have you kissed?" You shift your position to lay down on your stomach across the bed as you look at Marshall with curiosity.

"That's something I can't answer. I mean, how do you know for sure? Have you counted every single person or thing you've kissed in your entire lifetime?"

"Okay but like, on the lips. Don't only like, couples do that?"

"Not necessarily." He rolls over on the bed to face you as he speaks. "Gumball has to kiss some ambassadors from foreign lands as a greeting sometimes. Plus, isn't kissing just like any other bodily contact? It's just like you punching me, only with your face."

You laugh as he talks, no longer feeling inferior about your lack of knowledge on the subject.

"Forreal though, don't overthink it. I've been living a long time my dear, and some things aren't worth the head space."

The light from the lantern moves around Marshall's gray skin, and you can't help but let your gaze drift over it as he speaks. It was easy for Marshall to say not to worry about things. He had lived for so long and done so much, a kiss must be like nothing to him. You don't feel like you'd feel the same.

"I don't know Marshall, things are different for me than you. I'm not gonna live as long as you are. I mean, shouldn't you make your kisses count?"

His eyes lock into yours as you speak, and you notice that his glasses have fallen off of his face onto the floor. There's something about this moment, something about the way the light looks spread out across his bare face and the way your hair keeps slipping past your ear, that makes you feel at ease. But there's also something about this conversation and Marshall's body language, that makes you wish he never came in the first place. It wasn't that you didn't want to be intimate with Marshall, it was just that you didn't know how.

"I want to make your kisses count."

He sits up on your bed, and for some reason you do the same, your back pressing against the headboard. His hand reaches up to lightly touch the crease of your arm, and his skin feels cool against yours. For some reason you just now notice how cold Marshall's skin really is, despite how warm his breath felt against your face. You decide now isn't really the best time to be thinking about that, as Marshall's other hand somehow finds yours, and you also decide that kissing isn't really like punching at all.

Marshall's lips aren't soft, in fact, they feel shredded as he lightly presses them against you. They're cold, but somehow comforting, and they touch your own so gently that you hardly notice they're there. Marshall treats you very delicately as he kisses you, and it lasts for only a few seconds before he pulls away. His left hand leaves your arm slowly, but his right hand stays pressed on top of your own. He avoids eye contact with you, and you're kind of glad because you aren't too sure of what to say.

A thought pops into your head, and for some reason you can't shake it out. Was this just going to be another month? Was all of this time Marshall spent making you feel close to him for nothing all over again? What if you called him tomorrow and he didn't pick up? He's had problems with avoiding confrontation in the past. And what if this didn't mean anything to him like it did to you? You don't think you could last a month of silence after this, but he had lived so long and done so much, could he?

"Fionna."

Your eyes dart up to meet his, and his face looks even more flushed then usual.

"I'm done ditching you."

You nod, not knowing much of what else to say. You were tired, emotionally drained, and very confused as to what was going on. Marshall is silent as he crawls up the bed to sit beside you, and eventually you both lay down without a word. He doesn't try to touch you, or move his hands against your waist. You just lay beside each other, two people in the same bed, and you kind of liked it that way. You don't remember exactly when, but you fall asleep, and when you wake up in the morning you aren't surprised to see that you're alone under the sheets.


	4. i could be an accident but im still trying

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> heyeye eye yye ey this chapter took me forever to write for some reason but like it's not even that long? its hard for me to want to write kissy stuff bc like i REALLY WANT TO but im like "no............. take it slow jeez" so i tried to meet in the middle lmao. 
> 
> whatever cheers enjoy

"Fuck off!"

Your dagger slices through the thick fall air as the hug wolf moved in closer. It's teeth were bared, glowing ivory under the pale moon, and your hatred for Gumball grew a tad bit more as it lunged at you a third time. You attempted to drive your knife into it once again, moving clumsily through the thick fog. Why would Gumball even give you a mission like this? Especially making you go alone, forcing Cake to stay at the kingdom for her own small mission when you really could have used her help about now.

This had to stop, you couldn't keep functioning off of zero sleep and zero energy. These missions were getting more and more intense, and something deep down in you was starting to give. You didn't feel the same anymore, this didn't feel right. These missions weren't for the better of the people, they were just petty attempts at pissing you off, and the worst part was that they were starting to work.

Your dagger slices once again through air as you lunge forward, your body slamming into a thick mossy tree, the bark raking your skin. The wolf howls a deep laugh, your failure sparking amusement in him, but not in you. You catch him off guard, plummeting your shoulder into it's chest as you drive your knife deep through it's stomach. One wolf down, three more to go.

You pull away from it's lifeless body, your tired eyes looking back down at your work. It was lazy, even sloppy. It's obvious you can't keep doing this, but you press forward into the forest anyways. You had a mission, and you had to get it done. Gumball would hear back from you tomorrow, first thing in the morning.

* * *

 

Gumball didn't hear from you first thing in the morning, and in fact, he hasn't heard from you in three days. Neither has Cake, and so far, neither of them have caught on to your trail. You were avoiding his stupid missions, because it was a lot better than talking about what happened at the ball. You didn't feel like dragging yourself through long put away emotions all over again because you had a little fun with someone other than Gumball. And that person was Marshall, who's couch you were currently sleeping on.

"Wake up princess."

The living room light flickers on and off as you squeeze your eyes shut. It was cold, your blanket must have fallen off during the night. Marshall's house always felt like fall, and although he swore the bed was warmer you refused to sleep in it. At least with him at the same time. You and Marshall hadn't had any physical contact sense you kissed, in fact, you didn't even get within three feet of each other. You had both been avoiding getting close, and you both knew it.

You stumble off the couch slowly, rolling on the the floor with a sigh. Your breath turns into a small cloud of steam above you. Maybe it didn't just feel like fall, maybe it was. When are you going to return to real life outside of Marshall's cave? Hopefully never.

You push yourself off the ground slowly, stretching your joints as you walk into the kitchen. Marshall sits across from the entrance at the table, a small bowl of strawberries set out in front of him.

"So Gumball called."

You breathe in sharply. You hadn't explained to Marshall why you had been crashing at his house. In fact, you hadn't been talking to him much at all. The aura around the both of you lately had been awkward, as if you both were avoiding spilling the beans. One of you was about to tip.

"What'd he say?"

"He said no one knows where you're at, like you just fell off the side of the planet." You watch as he pops another strawberry into his mouth, wiping his chin with his shirt sleeve. "You wanna tell me what's going on?"

You sigh, leaning your shoulder against the doorway. "Did you rat me out?"

"Should I have?"

You couldn't tell if that was a good or bad answer.

"Ever since the ball, Gumball has been giving me these ridiculous missions as payback for... I don't even know. So I ditched I guess. He can't give me missions if he doesn't know where the hell I'm at." You felt stupid saying it out loud, but at least you were being honest.

"Hm." Marshall picks up his plate and walks to the sink as he talks. "Sound's like him."

"Why would he call you anyway?" You try your hardest not to sound snappy, but you fail miserably.

"Why wouldn't he?" Was he seriously mad about something this small? And what the hell did that mean?

You can tell Marshall's upset by his tone of voice, but you know he won't talk about it unless you make him.

"You cool?"

He shrugs as he turns back to exit the room. "I don't like being used."

You slam your palm against his chest as he tried to pass you, your eyes locking into his. You notice a red tinge lining his pupils and your throat swells with anxiety. Were you too close? Did it even matter at this point? Last time you had your hand on him like this, your hips were locked together, and you were grinning ear to ear. You push the thought from your head.

"Marshall..." You close your eyes as you talk. Maybe if you can't see him, it won't be as hard to form words. "It was stupid. I didn't think-"

"I don't really care how stupid it was Fionna. Just forget it."

He pushes past you, your body slumping into the wall a little too roughly for your liking. You turn and see him entering the hallway, an obvious dart to his bedroom, but he doesn't get very far.

"At least I'm honest about me and Gumball's relationship!" You try to control your emotions as best you can, but you're doing a terrible job at it. "There's obviously something going on between you too, and you both try your hardest to keep me in the dark about it."

He turns slowly, his face emotionless. "Maybe that's not of your damn business."

"Well maybe I don't want to be lied to either!" You run your fingers through your hair, a nervous tick. "Why is it okay for you to get pissed when I keep information about your precious ex-boyfriend to myself, but I'm the bad guy when I do the same?"

Marshall closes his eyes, tired bags circling underneath them. "We... He's not my ex."

"Well I wouldn't be able to tell the fucking difference! I thought you were a back-up, just like me right?" Your voice chokes in your throat, but not enough to notice. "You sure as hell seem to enjoy being one."

"At least Gumball actually talks to me anymore!" Marshall's eyes flare red as he opens them, his voice filling the room. "You've been here for three days now, and you won't even fucking touch me!"

"Maybe I don't know how!"

You stop, your words hanging silently in the air. Marshall's eyes fade back to soft green as you stare into them from across the room. His previous look of anger is replaced by pity, and honestly, you would rather have the anger back. Your cheeks flare a bright red as you push past him into the hallway, dashing into the bathroom and locking the door behind you just in time to hear the handle jiggle from the other side.

"Fionna?"

Why the fuck would you say that? You were so embarrassed and confused it hurt in your core. Your chest throbbed as you gripped the hair at your scalp. Where the fuck was your hat? You felt exposed, and way too vulnerable.

_"I want to make your kisses count."_

You laugh out loud at the thought of Marshall's words replaying in your head. What a load of shit. How could you be so stupid? Marshall had been intimate a million times, with a million different people. What made you any sort of special? He had given you just one tiny taste of what he had given everyone else, and you became emotionally locked to him. How could you let your whole world revolve around one stupid kiss?

He didn't need you, he never did. Hell, he had Gumball, a guy who had ditched you so many times for so many different people. Had he ditched you for Marshall before? You didn't want to think about it.

"Fionna? Please come out." His voice is muffled, and soft. It's the same tone he had when he told you he was done leaving you. Why did you all of a sudden want to leave him so badly?

You snap back to the present situation. You quickly glance around the room, noticing there isn't a single damn window. You're trapped, your only escape an old wooden door with a vampire boy pressed against the other side.

"At least say something." His voice sounds desperate pressed against the door. You don't like it.

You push your forehead softly against the cold wood in between your palms as you clear your throat. "Have you ever done anything with Gumball?"

A pregnant pause.

"Fionna, I'm not gonna lie and say I haven't. That doesn't matter."

You sigh, trying your hardest to hold yourself together. It had only been two months since you danced with him, two weeks since you kissed him. Why did you feel like this?

"Marshall I don't know what I'm doing."

You were just a dumb kid, following him around like a puppy, praying he'd grace you with just one more kiss.

"I don't know either. I'm sure if you unlocked the door we could figure it out."

You glance down at the doorknob beside you. He had answered none of your questions, but you knew he heard every one of them. You had forgotten he could read minds up until this point. Did it even matter anymore?

You slowly lift your hand, pressing your fingertips against the cool metal. Relationships were hard, but if that is what you wanted this to be you at least had to try.

The knob turns the second you unlock it, and you try your hardest not to look Marshall in the eye as he enters the room. His bathroom is pretty small, and it reminds you of the coat closet at your own house. Marshall laughs.

"Why are you hanging out in your coat closet?"

You don't reply as his arms circle around you slowly, his hands carefully snaking around your hips. You press your forehead against his chest, breathing in the smell of his tshirt and trying your hardest not to cry. Why were you so emotional over something like this? Were you even crying about Marshall at this point?

Marshall's hand moves from your waist up to your jaw. He palms it softly, slowly raising your face to meet his. You only get a glimpse of his eyes before his mouth crashes into yours, and this kiss is nothing like the previous one.

It feels like a waterfall, and his mouth and body press hard against you as your back digs into the sink. Your second kiss didn't feel like a kiss at all, but more like a plug. You felt as if you had just been tasered, electricity running through your whole body as you sat locked onto the source. At first it was wonderful, but all too soon became overbearing.

Marshall's hands dig under the hem of your shirt, his palms running smoothly up your back as you press yours against his chest. His hips dig hard against yours and his teeth rake against your bottom lip as he pushes more force behind his kiss. You want to scream, and you couldn't tell if it was good or bad. If you overflowed with electricity, weren't you doomed to burst?

"Stop!"

You push him off a little too hard, his back slamming into the open door behind him and his glasses falling on the floor with a small clatter.

Your breath chokes in your throat, and your tears are gone but it feels like you're still crying. What just happened? Did you ruin everything again?

You glance up to Marshall as you catch your breath, and he looks just as horrified as you feel. That was too much, and you couldn't tell who it was even stemming from. Had your overbearing need for intimacy taken control, or had Marshall?

"I'm so fucking sorry."

He looks disgusted with himself as his voice croaks deep from his chest. His hands shoot up to card his hair and his eyes dash around anything but you. Your back still digs into the bathroom sink and you had to get out of here. You had to be anywhere but this fucking room.

You scramble into the hallway as you breath in and out of your mouth slowly, and for some reason you had to be in Marshall's room. You didn't want to go to the living room, or the kitchen, or even your own damn house. All you could think about is the three nights you spent on the couch when there was a perfectly good bed just down the hall. You needed to lay down and think, and you weren't going to do it on Marshall's couch.

You hear Marshall's soft foot falls in the carpet behind you but you don't turn to look at him.

 

The beds already unmade, and a corner of the sheets has slipped off the mattress. You don't bother fixing it, you just crawl in slowly, your mind not even wrapping around the idea of crawling into Marshall's bed.

When you first met Marshall, that's all you could think about. You were a teenager just like any other, and you only had one thing on your mind. But now that the moment had become reality, it wasn't anything like any of your past fantasies had been. In fact, it was honestly quite the opposite. You were crawling in his bed to take a break from the intimacy. It was too intense for you, you tried to grab the bull by the horns but you should have known that you were the bull all along. There's no way you could prevent yourself from wrecking a few china shops in the process.

You fall into the bed, not at all gracefully, and Marshall does the same beside you as you roll over to the far side of the bed.

For a while you both stay silent, this mornings events rolling through your minds on repeat. You were both a mess, and together you made one giant mega-mess.

"Do you think we should break up?"

Marshall's eyes flash open to meet yours. You were surprised the words even came from your mouth.

"Uh," His face contorts into a look of confusion. "I don't want to. I don't even think we got the chance to even really be together."

"Do you want to be together?"

A pregnant pause. "What even qualifies as 'together'?"

You sigh. Did you even know? You wanted to be with Marshall, but you didn't think that the sort of relationship you both wanted fell under the boyfriend/girlfriend category.

"Just..." You lock eyes with him, his hair brushing just past his eyebrows. He left his glasses on the bathroom floor.

"Just, together."

You nod. "Yeah."


End file.
